


Aftershocks

by Plastraa



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, John Has Feelings, John thinks Sherlock is dead, Maudlin, implied asexual sherlock and straight john, post cannon for now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-28
Updated: 2012-09-28
Packaged: 2017-11-15 05:50:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/523851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plastraa/pseuds/Plastraa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sex is not the same thing as love. Love is far more complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftershocks

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't ever written in the fandom before, as I feel I'm not nearly smart enough to do these people any justice. I won't even pretend. BUT this little thing just wouldn't leave my mind until I wrote it down, so here goes. Forgive me.

“What happened John?”

“Sherlock...” The name itself felt like enough of an explanation.

“You need to get it out.” She tries.

“My...best friend, Sherlock Holmes is dead.” Just the sound of his own voice saying the words makes it real.

When Irene Adler had called them a couple John had refused to even entertain the idea that she was right. After all he wasn't gay, therefore he couldn't be in love with Sherlock Holmes. But he had mistakenly equated sexual attraction with love.

He hadn't understood Irene when she'd said, “look at us both”. He hadn't realised she was telling him that sexuality wouldn't stop them from loving Sherlock.

Sex wasn't love. Sex was a biological urge. Love was something far more complicated. Being in love with Sherlock Holmes was probably the most complicated thing a person could imagine. It was certainly the most complicated thing that John could imagine, and make no mistake, he had been in love with Sherlock. _Was_ in love with him.

John wasn't even quite sure when they had become necessary to each other. He couldn't really pinpoint a moment in time when Sherlock had started to feel like home to him. John only knew that Sherlock was gone now and his world felt wrong.

“John the stuff you wanted to say, but didn't say...” she pauses.

“Yeah.”

“Say it now.” She has that 'listening therapist' look on her face.

As if saying it will make it easier, as if he will be absolved of all the things he didn't say and didn't do when it would have mattered.

“Well...I'm sorry I can't.” He refuses. It's too late now, much too late. It will always be too late.


End file.
